Pathosis
by Nadare
Summary: "Don glanced at the dark mirror, glad he hadn't turned on the lights. These days he could barely stand to look at himself, guilt an almost constant pain in his gut." Or a look into the life of Don Harris before and after infection. Spoilers for the end of the movie. Written for Goretober 2019.


[Written on and off between 10-3-19 to 10-6-19]

Prompts: Horde, Murder, Dark, Virus, Apocalypse.

Tags: Dreams and Nightmares, Infection, Stalking, Virus, Survivor Guilt, Character Study, Angst, Canon Compliant, Horror, Goretober, Zombies, One Shot.

* * *

"_**Pathosis"**_

_He had to take care of his kids. _

_That was the excuse that echoed in his mind as Don closed the door to the bedroom despite his wife's cries at being trapped inside a room with the infected._

_Never mind his high heart rate, or his desperate desire to flee. There was no need for both of them to die. It'd be useless to attempt a rescue without a weapon anyway. More suicidal than anything else._

_Don could hear the horde behind them as he ran full out, crossing the field faster than he thought possible, guilt and grief possessing him. _

_He wasn't going to make it. Not at the rate the boat was being launched from the river dock. Don took control of the situation, taking a seat in it and starting the motor. _

_The boat suddenly lurched forward and his friend Jacob went flying into the water. Don ignored him as he struggled to swim back to the boat. It was every man for himself at this point. Tammy and Andy needed at least one parent and risking himself further in such a dangerous situation was foolhardy._

_The end of the boat dipped into the water, some of the infected boarding it, their movements sporadic, red eyes blazing. They'd soon tip the vehicle over in their quest to get to him._

_Don wondered which was worse: drowning or getting torn to pieces by a rage-filled mob. Dirty bloodied fingers reached for him as Don decided the former would probably be less painful. _

_He'd just gotten one leg over the side of the boat, then was yanked backwards by his shirt collar. Don landed on the bottom of the boat in a daze, his vision blurry until it snapped back into focus just in time to see the infected swarm him._

_They pulled, scratched, and bit with abandon, senseless in their need to maim others. His skin gave way under their unnatural grip, his bones breaking, bringing his most precious resource to the surface. Blood ran in thick lines from multiple wounds on his body, warming him from the inside out._

_Don screamed soundlessly, his one thought that in a few seconds he wouldn't care about his fate. The infection would take him over, rendering feelings moot. There would be only rage and nothing else._

_His wife Alice was among the horde, blood dripping from her mouth. She was smiling at Don's, even as she ripped one of his shoulders from his arm socket._

"_I'm home, honey." _

Don started awake, soaked in sweat, his heartbeat rabbit fast. He patted himself down, making sure everything was still intact.

Just a nightmare. A horribly vivid nightmare.

He got out of the bed, then went to the bathroom to wash his face. The cold water was enough to shake off the last dregs of sleep.

Don glanced at the dark mirror, glad he hadn't turned on the lights. These days he could barely stand to look at himself, guilt an almost constant pain in the bottom of his gut.

At the time he'd had no thought in his mind except escape. Abandoning his wife to do it had seemed like a perfectly reasonable course of action.

Don sank down to the floor, wetness gathering in his eyes. No, he knew the truth. It was what fueled his dark dreams and haunted his every waking hour.

"Fuckin' coward."

He had to pull it together. His children were returning to the country today. Surely having them back would make things better, or at least serve as a distraction.

Surely.

* * *

The world had grown very simple. Chase the running people and stop them. Each mouthful of blood and every broken limb settled the beast inside him until Don saw it, stopping him in his tracks.

In the face of a small boy standing across the way were the same green and brown eyes he'd pushed the ends of his thumbs through back in the isolation room.

Don had thought he'd destroyed them, but here they were again, coming back to haunt him. Bringing back memories he'd discarded in favor of bloodlust.

He was suddenly back in the cottage, faced with the decision to stay or go, either choice likely to get him killed. He closed the door in Alice's face and fled. Shame burned a hole in his chest, her disbelieving expression burned into his memory.

No.

Don thought he was beyond this.

He had to stop them, the remnants of his past.

He had to take care of his kids.

Escaping the firebombing in District One was easy, the tightened security having fallen apart in the chaos of the sudden infected attack. What proved difficult was keeping his prey in his sights without them spotting him.

They traveled far, their small group growing smaller as time went, making it easy for Don to stalk them. Thanks to the virus, he never tired, endless energy coursing through his veins.

His luck rose to its highest point when the remaining trio went underground into the tube tunnels, quickly proving they couldn't see in the dark without aid.

He could.

The first thing he did was take out their lone guardian, a small woman who despite trying her best to defend herself couldn't beat back his aggressive onslaught. He'd had the element of surprise after all.

The boy separated from the girl and that was when Don struck, those damn eyes staring at him in dread as Don rushed him, knocking him to the ground. Holding the boy down, Don easily overpowered him and sunk his teeth deep into his shoulder.

Behind him, a familiar female voice called out loudly. "Don't!"

Alice?

He rose from the boy's shoulder, the breath shuddering in his throat as he saw the girl standing not five feet away, holding a gun, its barrel trained on him.

Oh, god. Andy and Tammy.

What had he been doing? He was their father, how could he…the rage ebbed on the edge of his mind, threatening to return any moment.

The fear in Tammy's gaze was palpable, as was the sadness in her face. Her hands were shaking.

If he wasn't stopped, Don knew he would finish the job, familial ties be damned.

He couldn't- no, he **wouldn't** let the virus win.

Not this time.

Pretending to relapse into madness, Don bared his teeth, growling, and lurched forwards toward Tammy. He was relieved when his daughter pulled the trigger despite her panicked state. Brave and protective of her little brother as always. Strong like her mother had been.

Back when the virus has first ravaged England and ousted Don and Alice from their London flat, she'd been the one to keep things together while he'd just wanted to run and hide.

Don would never have admitted it out loud, but part of him was pleased when he and Alice had ended up in a countryside cottage, far away from the majority of the infected. Where he didn't have to fight unless he absolutely had to.

How things had changed.

Don's shoulder burned, the first shot having pierced right through him. This time he wasn't acting, the rage taking hold of him once more, when he went for Tammy again.

His last thought before a pair of bullets blew his brains into oblivion was that he was grateful he hadn't killed Andy.

Because no father should be responsible for the death of their children.


End file.
